


The Tumblr Collective

by persephoneggsy



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), London Spy
Genre: Crossover, Drabble Collection, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, most of it is hartwin tbh, some content is NSFW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneggsy/pseuds/persephoneggsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically the ask box fics from my tumblr, all gathered into one convenient place for your viewing pleasure</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 37. meeting in prison au (Hartwin)

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is also persephoneggsy, so hit me up if you want

It isn’t as if Harry _meant_ to get caught, no matter the smartarse quips that Merlin was surely making back at HQ. Not that Harry could hear any of them, such was his current predicament. He looked around the small enclosed cell, for what must have been the twentieth time, but nothing about its dull, depressing design had changed in the past two days. Harry sighed, letting his head fall back and hit the wall.

It had been a simple operation, really- get in, destroy the drug shipment, arrest the drug lord, get out. Except Harry ended up getting double-crossed at the last minute and caught by the authorities. It had been so unexpected that Merlin didn’t have the time to scrounge up their resources and stop Harry from being sentenced to ten years, though he was quickly working on remedying that. Harry estimated he had another week to go before everything was sorted and he could walk out of this place scot-free. Couldn’t be sure, though. Merlin had barely spoken to him through his glasses since his incarceration.

His musings were cut off by the sound of the cell door opening, and he looked up to see a guard escorting a young man inside. The young man wore civilian clothing, meaning he was likely a remanded prisoner, like Harry, and a fierce scowl as the guard shoved him inside without so much as a grunt.

“That’s yer roommate,” the guard growled, jabbing a thumb in Harry’s direction. “Get along, you two.”

And then he was gone, shutting the door to their cell and leaving them in suffocating silence. The young man remained where he stood, and he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Harry with a severely unimpressed look. Harry stood from the perch he’d claimed on the bottom bunk and walked over to him- he towered over the lad by a good five inches.

And, really, though it wasn’t really the time or place to say it, the lad was quite attractive. Piercing green eyes and soft-looking blond hair, as well as a jaw sharp enough to cut steel, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Were they in a different situation, Harry might’ve asked him out for a drink already.

“Hello,” Harry began, politely. “My name is Harry.”

The young man’s scowl lightened just a bit, as if he was surprised by Harry’s lack of hostility. “… Eggsy.”

He gave a gentle smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Eggsy.”

“I, uh… You too, I guess.” Eggsy’s gaze traveled up and down Harry’s body- and perhaps it was Harry’s vanity saying so, but there was definitely a spark of interest in the boy’s eyes. “What are you in for?”

“Drug possession,” Harry shrugged. “Bit of a horrid misunderstanding, really.”

Eggsy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” He didn’t seem convinced, not that Harry could blame him.

“And you?”

“Same,” was the bored-sounding answer. “Got caught with a briefcase of coke.”

It was Harry’s turn to be dubious, raising an eyebrow of his own. “Really?” Eggsy didn’t seem like he used drugs.

“Weren’t my drugs. Was carryin’ them for somebody else.”

“Who?”

“A dick.”

“Ah.”

And with that, Eggsy deemed the conversation over. He turned and made his way to the bunk bed, climbing up to the top bunk without another word to Harry. Harry watched him move, a small smile on his face. Eggsy seemed like an interesting young man. Shame that Harry had, at most, a week. They would probably ignore each other for most of it before Harry was released.

 

* * *

 

Or so he thought. Because Eggsy was actually quite talkative, and Harry was just about the only person in the prison he could have a decent conversation with that wouldn’t end in a fight. So they talked. A lot. Harry learned about Eggsy’s mother and sister, whom he missed and tried to talk to everyday, and also his stepfather, who was, in Eggsy’s words, “a right piece of shit.” Incidentally, it was his stepfather’s drugs he’d been carrying when he was arrested. But Eggsy, ever the noble young man, adamantly refused to snitch on anyone, thus resulting in his prison sentence.

Harry realized then, as Eggsy smiled and moved on to a story about his sister, that he was more than a little bit in love.

So really, it was no surprise to him when he found himself underneath Eggsy in their cell. The younger man shoved himself down on Harry’s cock, letting out small, breathy moans and whispered iterations of Harry’s name. Harry’s grip was bruising on the lad’s hips, but Eggsy didn’t seem to mind or care. When Eggsy came, Harry wasn’t too far behind, and as they laid together in a sweaty, satisfied heap, Harry resolved to ask Merlin for one last, tiny favor.

 

* * *

 

A week and a half after Harry Hart’s incarceration, he was released, due to “tampered evidence” or some other such nonsense, and he walked out of the prison with the promise to see Eggsy again very, very soon.

 

* * *

 

A week after that, Gary Unwin- better known as Eggsy- was released as well, after his stepfather and his cronies had confessed to owning the drugs and forcing the lad to carry them. It was a shock to anyone who knew them, meaning that their confession was probably obtained under some kind of extreme duress, but Eggsy absolutely did not care as he walked out of the prison and into the waiting arms of his mother and sister.

And besides, he couldn’t think too much about his stepfather and his gang then. He had a date the next day, with a tailor from Savile Row.


	2. 22. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au (Hartwin ft. Choxy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled, "Harry Hart is a Smooth Motherfucker".

Eggsy frowned at his drink, the champagne mostly gone by that point, as the music continued to play around him. People were dancing and laughing and generally having a good time, but Eggsy continued to sulk privately at his lonely little table.

He glanced up, and saw the two centers of attention slow dancing in the middle of the room, and his mood lightened just a little bit. If anyone had told him three years ago that he’d be the best man at _Charlie Hesketh’s_ wedding, well, he’d punch them in the gut and call them crazy. But there they were; Charlie had asked Eggsy, his best friend, to be his best man in the same week he finally proposed to his girlfriend of two years, the lovely Miss Roxanne Morton. Eggsy should have been a lot happier for them, he knew, but…

Well. What kind of best man showed up without a date?

It was hard not to feel lonely when one found themselves absolutely _surrounded_ by love and adoration. Other couples besides Charlie and Roxy were dancing and being all mushy together, and then there was Eggsy, alone, pouting at his drink like a child.

But then Eggsy’s focus quickly shifted, as someone slid into the seat next to him. He glanced up and saw a (frankly, _gorgeous)_ older man now across from him, and he was smiling apologetically. Eggsy vaguely recalled seeing him during the wedding- he was probably a relative of Roxy’s or something, since he knew most of Charlie’s family.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude,” he began, voice deep and rich and already _doing things_ to Eggsy, “but aren’t you the best man?”

“I…” It took a moment for Eggsy’s brain to restart. “Y-Yeah, I am.”

The older man smiled gently. “Your speech was very lovely.”

Eggsy felt his cheeks heat up. Not that he wanted anyone to know it, but he’d spent a good week agonizing over his speech. He’d peppered in a few embarrassing stories about Charlie, as well as some of the funnier moments he’d walked in on between the happy couple, until he ended it with a short but heartfelt expression of congratulations that was met with hearty applause. He thought Charlie even teared up a bit.

Still. Hearing praise from the handsome older gentleman made Eggsy’s spirits lift in an entirely different way.

“T-Thanks,” he replied, cursing when he stuttered _again._ “Uh… What’s your name?”

The older man blinked. “Oh, terribly sorry. I’m Harry. Harry Hart. I’m the bride’s uncle.” He stuck out his hand for Eggsy to shake, which he did.

“I’m Eggsy. Uncle, huh?” Eggsy repeated. Roxy had mentioned a few uncles that were going to attend the ceremony. “Which one?”

“The recently divorced one who wasn’t sure if he was even going come to the wedding,” Harry answered dryly. Eggsy tensed.

“Oh. Shit, sorry mate.”

“You needn’t be.”

“Well, I mean… Goin’ to a weddin’ after you’s been divorced… I thought I had the bad lot just showin’ up without a date.”

Harry chuckled. “It’s quite alright,” he waved his hand dismissively. “It was for the best, really. My ex-wife and I really only had one thing in common.”

“Oh? What was that?”

And then Harry leaned in across the table, a smirk playing on his lips. Eggsy felt his mouth dry up as his heart hammered in his chest.

“We both like men.”

“O-Oh.” Eggsy blushed. _Fuck._ “That’s… well. Wow.”

Harry’s smirk widened into an amused grin. “Now, Eggsy, was it?” He waited for Eggsy to nod. “Feel free to tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but… I don’t suppose you’d care to honor me with a dance?”

Eggsy felt like all he was capable of was staring dumbly at the obscenely hot man who was quite obviously hitting on him, but he must have nodded or something, because the next thing he knew, Harry had him out of his chair and in his arms, and they were swaying gently together to a slow song.

Still stunned, his gaze traveled away from Harry’s smiling face to somewhere over the older man’s shoulder, where he saw Roxy and Charlie staring at them both. They looked curious, though Roxy recovered first, flashing Eggsy a thumbs-up, which promptly made Eggsy blush and duck his head to avoid looking at them.

He’d reacted similarly when, around eleven the next morning, he was woken up with a text from Charlie that read simply, _“Roxy wanted to tell you and Harry ‘you’re welcome’ Also, practice safe sex. Unless it’s too late for that already.”_

“Asshole,” Eggsy murmured, glaring at his phone. The arm that was slung over Eggsy’s waist tightened, and the body behind him- Harry, obviously- stirred.

“What, darling?” he asked sleepily.

“Nothin’. Just your niece and nephew-in-law being dicks.”

Harry hummed. “Aren’t they supposed to be on their honeymoon now?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then,” Harry reached over and plucked the phone from Eggsy’s grasp, tossing it somewhere behind him on the bed. He then quickly adjusted himself to tower over Eggsy, much like he had the night before when they first stumbled back to Eggsy’s place after the wedding- the mere memory of it making Eggsy shiver in anticipation. “Why don’t we just ignore them? I’m sure we can find better ways to amuse ourselves, after all.”

Eggsy grinned up at him. “Sounds good to me.”


	3. 40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au (Danny/Alex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand Eggsy makes an appearance bc I need a London Spy/Kingsman crossover like I need air

When Danny spots Alex across the street, looking just as handsome and put-together as he did four years ago, he nearly has a heart attack.

Because it’s been _so_ long since he’s seen the man, but his thoughts have barely strayed from him since the moment they broke up. Well, since _Danny_ broke up with him. Which has continued to be his biggest regret of his adult life, but he figured he’d never see Alex again, so he’s just lived with it for all these years.

But there’s Alex, walking out of a building, looking for all the world like a model making his way down the runway, and Danny has never been so simultaneously elated and conflicted.

And then, before he knows it, his feet are carrying him across the street, over to where Alex is now standing, checking his phone. It’s too late to stop when he realizes what he’s doing, though he does spend an internal minute screaming at himself. So he just lets himself keep going, trying to decide what he should say to the man he’s fairly certain was the love of his life.

Which is when he sees the other man.

He’s a bit younger than Alex, and shorter too, but’s he’s muscular and well-dressed in a three-piece suit that nearly puts Alex’s to shame. He walks up to Alex faster than Danny does, and slings an arm around his shoulder with a grin. Alex sways a bit at the motion, but then spares the young man a small smile. They’re talking about something, but Danny doesn’t hear any of it because he’s stopped just short of the sidewalk and stares.

Of course.

Of course Alex has moved on- the young man is handsome, there’s no denying that. He’s probably from the same class as Alex, too, if the suit was any indication. And who wouldn’t want to date Alex? He was gorgeous and thoughtful and smart and sweet and _oh god Danny why did you ever break up with him-_

Danny doesn’t notice Alex look up and see him, nor does he notice the way his mouth falls open in shock. But he does notice when, in a small voice that somehow carries over the crowds, Alex speaks.

“Danny?”

Danny jumps, then grimaces, because now he knows that Alex and the Handsome Stranger are both looking at him curiously. So he musters up whatever bits of courage he has left and stalks over the rest of the way, until he’s a mere five feet away from them.

“Alex,” he greets, a bit robotically. “Bit of a surprise, running into you here,” and then he immediately cringes, because it’s a fucking _street,_ you could run into anyone on the street. But Alex only nods, with the same solemn expression he usually defaults to. Danny just counts it as a blessing that the Handsome Stranger has unwound his arm from Alex’s shoulders.

“Friend of yours, bruv?” Handsome Stranger asks, and Danny is thrown for a bit by his rough accent, which is at odds with the rest of his appearance.

“Yes, this is Danny. We used to…” Alex trails off, looking a bit uncertain. “We used to date.”

Danny swallows the lump in his throat and makes a noise of acquiescence.

“Oh.” Handsome Stranger looks suspiciously between the two of them, then sticks out his hand for Danny to shake. He does, but not really because he wants to. “Nice to meet ya, Danny. ‘M Eggsy.”

“N-Nice to meet you too… Eggsy.” Danny frowns at the name, because who in their right mind names a kid ‘Eggsy’?

“Eggsy and I work together,” Alex is quick to say.

Danny blinks. “Oh.” That’s how they met, then. They both work at the bank and it was love at first sight. He fights back another grimace.

“Well, more like, his department fucked some shit up and they lent him to us as an apology.” Eggsy grins and smacks Alex’s shoulder. “Job offer’s still on the table, bruv. We’d love to have ya.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” Alex replies demurely. Then his attention is back on Danny. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh. Uh, you know… The usual.”

Alex nods. Eggsy rolls his eyes, for a reason Danny can’t fathom.

“Well, I’ll just let you two catch up, then,” he says, quickly stepping away from Alex and smiling at them both. “’sides, the husband’s waitin’ for me at home.”

Danny’s mouth falls open in surprise at the same moment Alex nods.

“Tell Mr. Hart I said hello.”

“Will do. Ta,” Eggsy waves, and then he turns around and saunters into the crowd, disappearing from view.

Danny is still staring after him, stunned, when Alex clears his throat and recalls his attention.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I thought- I thought you two were dating,” explains Danny, blinking dumbly. Alex stares at him.

“What? No. Like I said, we just work together.”

Danny shifts awkwardly. “Right. Yeah. Sorry, I guess I… let my imagination run wild.”

Alex tilts his head and looks at him, his gaze calculating but… oddly warm. “It’s okay. I… I don’t suppose you’d mind if I bought you a coffee or something?”

Danny stares again. “What?” he squeaks out.

“I’d like to catch up,” Alex clarifies. “That is, if you’d like to as well. I miss talking to you, Danny.”

And then something that _isn’t_ anxiety or self-deprecation tugs at Danny’s heart. He manages a smile as he looks back at Alex’s handsome face, his worries about Eggsy already fading from his mind.

“I’ve missed talking to you too, Alex. Coffee sounds lovely.”


	4. "Where the fuck did that clown come from" (Cheggsy)

In all honesty, Eggsy had only ever been to Charlie’s house a handful of times, so one couldn’t blame him if he didn’t remember _every single detail_ of the layout or décor. Charlie’s parents still didn’t quite like him yet (which was fine, they were working on it), so any time he  _did_ spend at the Hesketh house was very limited. In fact, the Incident in question had happened when he was merely meant to be picking Charlie up for a date.

Charlie, in his typical primadonna fashion, wasn’t ready yet, and told Eggsy to go and wait in the living room until he was. Eggsy had merely rolled his eyes and obeyed, striding to the living room, where he spotted Mrs. Hesketh already settled, holding aloft a small cup of tea. Charlie’s mother barely acknowledged Eggsy when he came in, but by that point, he was used to it.

He turned to sit down in the seat farthest from Mrs. Hesketh, when _it_ caught his eye.

He let out a yelp and jumped nearly three feet back, which in turn startled Mrs. Hesketh into nearly spilling her tea, and caused Charlie to come running out to see what the commotion was all about.

“Eggsy?” Charlie asked, brow furrowed.

“Where the _fuck_ did that clown come from?!” he shouted in reply, pointing an accusing finger at _it._

 _It,_ naturally, being a porcelain bust of a clown. But not like a typical circus clown with bright colors and a happy expression, oh no. It was one of those fucking scary-ass vintage clowns with a melancholy expression on its unholy, painted face.

Eggsy didn’t like clowns, alright?

Charlie had only blinked helplessly for a few moments before responding. “Mother bought it when she went on a trip to Australia.”

“The fuck she buy a clown for? People buy boomerangs and t-shirts with koalas on ‘em in Australia, not fuckin’ clowns!” He was well-aware of Mrs. Hesketh’s glare focused on his form, but he did not give a flying fuck at the moment.

Charlie shrugged, glancing at his mother for a moment. “She’s thinking of starting a collection.”

“Oh hell no.” Eggsy inched as far away as he could from the demonic bust without resorting to outright running. “Charlie, I love you and all, but I am _never_ coming to your house again if there are gonna be more of _those!”_

It was at that point that Mrs. Hesketh opened her mouth to say something, possibly some kind of scathing retort towards Eggsy, when the voice of Charlie’s dad rang out from one of the other rooms.

“I _told_ you that thing was terrifying, Vivian! Now for the love of god, get rid of it before our son loses his boyfriend!”

* * *

A few days later, Eggsy returned to the Hesketh house to pick up Charlie for lunch, and was quite relieved to find that the clown bust was no longer a feature in the living room.

“Oh, Mother just moved it to her room,” Charlie said, when Eggsy commented upon the clown’s absence. “I think it was mainly to get back at Father for shouting at her about it.” He paused, and gave Eggsy a narrow look. “Would you have really broken up with me over a clown statue?”

Eggsy shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Depends. Did _you_ like it?”

“Fuck no.”

“Then no, we’re good.” He leaned over and gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek. “Now let’s go, babe, I’m starvin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://www.roundaboutantiques.com.au/uploads/shopEasy/products/images/ihr0khmbqv.jpg) is the demon thing, in case anyone was wondering
> 
> i fucking hate clowns


	5. A Valentine's Day Prompt (Hartwin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can I please get some spanking for Valentine's Day? Cos Eggsy loves being spanked and fingered at the same time and Harry is always ready to comply. Plus nipple play and kissing?"   
> \- Anonymous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ask and ye shall receive
> 
> also, more explicit than the other fics have been lol

“Fuck… fuck, Harry…” Eggsy whimpered against Harry’s lips, as the older man continued to kiss him, practically devouring Eggsy with each feather-light touch. It wasn’t enough, not compared to what their make-out sessions were usually like, but Harry was making up for it in spades with the attention he was paying to Eggsy’s chest.

His shirt had been haphazardly unbuttoned and tie tossed aside somewhere on the floor, but the only thing that mattered to Eggsy were Harry’s fingers, which plucked at and twisted the pert, round nubs of his nipples. Eggsy groaned with every single subtle flick of Harry’s hand, his face flushed a dark color that nearly matched his lover’s maroon red tie.

It might have been a bad idea, really, when he let Harry find out exactly how sensitive his nipples were- but really, it wasn’t as if he’d done it on purpose. _Harry_ was the one who got a little too frisky in the shower last week. He’d been indulging himself by lathering Eggsy’s body up with soap, when an errant finger brushed against a nub and Eggsy, caught off-guard, let out a long, drawn-out moan. Harry had stared at him for what felt like forever before he pinned Eggsy to the wall and proceeded to fuck his brains out.

Actually, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Because there they were, in Harry’s office, with Eggsy sitting on Harry’s desk, half-naked already. He’d thought that Harry called him in there for official Kingsman-related business, but as soon as he locked the door (per Harry’s instructions) and walked over, Harry had all but thrown him onto the desk and kissed the living daylights out of him. Not that you’d find Eggsy’s complaining; it’d been a fuck-boring day anyway.

Harry ducked his head, his lips leaving Eggsy’s wanting, as his mouth instead went to join his hands on their assault on Eggsy’s chest. A tongue laved against a nipple while a pair of fingers twisted the other, making Eggsy squirm and pant like an animal in heat. He wondered absently if Harry’s office was soundproof. If not, whoever had the adjacent offices was going to hear quite a few embarrassing noises, courtesy of agent Galahad himself.

Then, abruptly, Harry stopped. He pulled himself off of Eggsy’s chest and straightened his back, his eyes looking down upon Eggsy as if to admire his handiwork; the young man’s chest was as flushed as his face, and his nipples were dark pink and hard due to his careful attentions.

“ _Fuuuck,”_ Eggsy moaned, trying to catch his breath. “Why’d ya stop?”

Harry chuckled, moving gracefully back into his chair, so that Eggsy was now the one who had to look down _._ He could see the hard outline of Harry’s cock tenting his trousers, showing that the older man was just as affected as he was.

The older man smiled innocently. “I just thought that, perhaps, you might like to do that _other_ thing you’re so fond of.”

Eggsy blinked a few times in response. His brain was too fogged up with lust to think properly. Other thing…?

Oh. _Oh._

Vivid recollections of nearly a month ago popped into his head, when Eggsy had returned from a mission with too much pent-up energy and a hard-on, which had resulted in a reaction from Harry that ended up leading to a brand new kink for the young man.

Hurriedly, Eggsy slipped off the desk, only to reposition himself by draping his front over it, presenting his arse to Harry like a prize. Harry smiled approvingly, though Eggsy did not see it, and watched as Eggsy deftly undid his trousers, letting them and his briefs drop to his ankles, leaving him gloriously bare.

“Gorgeous,” he admired. Eggsy wiggled his hips impatiently.

“C’mon Harry, _please.”_

“Alright, alright. Just a moment.” Harry made a torturously slow show of reaching for his desk’s top-right drawer, where he kept the lube stored for occasions such as this. Eggsy was practically shivering by the time he heard the lid pop open, and the wet sounds of lube being spread over fingers. He almost jumped when one such lube-slicked finger prodded against his entrance- he dropped his forehead to Harry’s desk and moaned wantonly, pushing his hips back against the finger.

It slid in easily, much faster than Harry normally did things, which probably meant that Harry was getting impatient. Good. Eggsy clenched down on the finger as much as he was able, and delighted in hearing Harry’s quiet groan.

“Desperate thing, aren’t you?” he asked, but before Eggsy could quip something back, Harry raised his other hand and brought it back down to land against Eggsy’s arsecheek with a loud _smack._

“Oh!” Eggsy’s head popped back up, eyes wide. His skin tingled from the impact, which in turn made his cock twitch eagerly. Harry wasted no time in adding a second finger, scissoring Eggsy open with rhythmic strokes, while his other hand set up a steady pace of its own, spanking Eggsy’s cheeks red. The young man could only squirm and mewl in response, letting Harry use his arse in any way he saw fit.

“Harry… oh fuck, yeah, _aahn…”_

“Shit,” Harry groaned. “Fuck, Eggsy, do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”

Well, no, and quite frankly, neither did Harry, since all he could see was Eggsy’s red bum, but he appreciated the sincere compliment all the same. One of Harry’s hands, the one spanking his arse, withdrew, but Eggsy heard his lover’s fly being unzipped and decided not to pout. Instead, he looked over his shoulder to watch- Harry had his hand wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it in time with the way he fingered Eggsy’s hole.

Eggsy bit his lip when Harry quickened his pace with both hands, the fingers inside him moving faster, too fast, and then suddenly they’d found his prostate, rubbing against the spot roughly, which made Eggsy keen loudly and thrust his hips back faster.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon Harry, make me cum!”

“Naughty boy,” Harry gritted out, but he changed the angle of his hand nonetheless, now hitting Eggsy’s sweet spot with every stroke inside. It took one, two, three more thrusts before Eggsy came, white ropes spilling onto the floor as he screamed. Harry followed shortly after, fucking his own fist until he came all over Eggsy’s arse, marking him.

They’d taken a moment to compose themselves before cleaning up, and then they shared one last tender kiss before Eggsy left the office, feeling considerably more light-hearted than he had before. Whether that was due to what he and Harry had just done, or what Harry had promised to do to him once they got home, was a secret Eggsy was intent on keeping to himself.


	6. 50. going through a divorce au (Hartwin)

The bottom of the shot glass stared tauntingly up at Harry, as if daring him to ask for a refill. He frowned, hard, at the offending glass before pushing it forward, silently asking the bartender for more. He kept his eyes trained on the wooden grain of the bar top, glaring so hard he might as well burn a hole through it. Then the shot glass suddenly reappeared, miraculously full once more, and Harry downed it without a moment’s hesitation.

He held back a grimace at the burning effect of the alcohol, still not quite used to the sensation, even after several shots. He was vaguely aware of a presence in front of him, probably the bartender, but the tailor didn’t bother looking up; he merely pushed the glass forward again.

“Sorry, mate, but I think you’ve had enough,” a street-rough, youthful voice informed him, sounding far more concerned than Harry would have liked. He finally lifted his eyes to glare at the bartender, because fuck you, he hadn’t had nearly enough, but his expression shifted once he found himself staring into eyes the color of the sea.

The owner of the eyes was a young man, who had a small frown on his otherwise stupidly attractive face. He almost looked too young to be working in a pub like The Black Prince, but he supposed they were in that part of town that really didn’t give a shit.

Right. Anyway. The bartender with the impossibly pretty eyes slowly pulled the glass further away from Harry, and moved to put it away permanently. Harry let out a soft groan of protest, but his heart wasn’t really in it. Something about the concerned expression on the bartender’s face had taken the resolve to keep drinking out of him. Besides, his hangover was already going to be absolutely fucking terrible in the morning.

The bartender was speaking again. “What’s your address, bruv? I’ll call you a cab.”

“Don’t call me ‘bruv’,” Harry responded sharply, momentarily forgetting his manners. The bartender didn’t look too concerned.

“Sorry. But listen, you should really get home.”

“Why?” drawled Harry, who was quickly becoming determined to do the opposite of that. “There’s no one at home waiting for me. Not anymore.”

The fucking kid looked sympathetic, fuck him. “Doesn’t mean you gotta get yourself pissed at,” he checked the clock on the wall behind Harry, “one in the mornin’. It ain’t healthy, mate.”

“What the fuck do you know?” Harry retorted.

“Hey, I seen all sorts ‘round here. Let me guess; bad break up?”

Harry winced. “Divorce. And aren’t they all bad?”

The bartender- Harry should really figure out his name, he was getting tired of referring to the lad as simply that- shrugged. “Depends on the circumstances.”

“Yes, well, my circumstances were shit. Unless you can think of something worse than your wife running off with your younger, richer client because she found you ‘dull’.”

He felt a hand over his, and looked up, startled, at those sympathetic, gorgeous eyes. He had to be extremely drunk, no one’s eyes should look like that, it wasn’t fair.

“That fuckin’ sucks, mate,” he said, and oddly, Harry believed he was being sincere. He’d heard similar variations of the condolence from his friends and coworkers, and they were expected, even welcomed in some cases. Yet hearing the same words from a complete stranger had a much stronger effect on Harry.

“It does,” he conceded quietly. “But you know the most fucked up thing?” The bartender didn’t respond, so he continued. “I don’t really miss her. I mean, I know I should, but I’m mostly angry that she just up and left without even saying anything to me. She got her sister to hand me the divorce papers.”

The bartender, to Harry’s satisfaction, actually looked upset at that. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Harry smiled bitterly. “I signed them, of course, because what else was I supposed to do? Her sister at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Haven’t heard a word from her since; and I doubt I’ll be seeing that client at the shop anytime soon.”

The bartender’s hand tightened over Harry’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “No one deserves that. Well, maybe a few people, but not you.”

“You hardly know me,” Harry replied, though something warm washed over him at the young man’s words.

“Yeah, but I can tell you’s a good sort. Don’t get many of them around here; you stick out like a sore thumb.”

Harry smiled in response, and this time, it was small and soft. “Thank you, er…”

“Eggsy.”

“Eggsy,” he repeated, testing the name out on his tongue. It sounded strange, but not in a bad way. It was sort of charming, really. “Thank you, Eggsy.”

“No problem, mate.” Regretfully, Eggsy pulled his hand away from Harry’s. “Now, how’s about that cab?”

Finding no more use in arguing, and in fact actually feeling rather tired, Harry relented when the young man asked for his address again. He was in his staggeringly empty home not ten minutes later.

Instead of feeling lonely or angry, though, he found himself quite relaxed when he finally went to bed.

Really, the massive hangover he had the next day almost felt worth it.

* * *

Though Harry wasn’t habitually a drunkard (preferring to overindulge only on the holidays and at office-mandated parties), he returned to The Black Prince several times over the course of that month. He never managed to outdo his first night of drinking there, but that was mainly because he was concerned with something else entirely.

Namely, Eggsy.

He was unable to get the boy out of his mind. Harry was rather pleased, in fact, to find that Eggsy was even prettier without the effect of booze hazing his vision.

And for his part, Eggsy seemed rather happy to see Harry again and again. Though, that might have just been because Harry was quickly becoming a regular, and one who could afford the more expensive drinks on the shelf. Still, Harry liked to think Eggsy enjoyed talking to him just as much, what with all the information they’d volunteered to each other.

Eggsy knew that he was a tailor, and that he actually owned a shop on Savile Row, after his uncle had retired and given it to him. And Harry, in turn, knew that Eggsy lived with two flatmates (two people his own age named Roxy and Charlie), but he still visited his mother and little sister at every opportunity. That, and he had a pug, which he’d apparently mistaken for a bulldog when he first got him. It was all ridiculously endearing.

Harry was well aware what his actions would have looked like to the outside observer. He was quite obviously trying to ‘pick up’ the young bartender, or whatever it was called nowadays. And he could see how that would be problematic. He was old enough to be the boy’s father, for one thing. For another, he’d just admitted to being recently divorced. One could easily be convinced that he was merely seeking temporary companionship.

But no, Harry was certain that his intentions were a bit more honorable than that. He found Eggsy genuinely engaging, and a delight to be around. He had an infectious grin, a charming laugh, and fuck, okay, Harry was falling for him. He didn’t even know if Eggsy was dating someone else, or if he even liked men, much less men as old as Harry.

So three weeks into Harry’s pseudo-courtship of Eggsy, his resolve began to waver. He was probably wasting his time, after all. Even if by some miracle Eggsy wasn’t with somebody else, Harry shouldn’t have been so vain as to think he might be interested in a dusty old tailor like him. So instead of trying to work up the nerve to ask the young man out, Harry simply left the pub in a dejected slump, fully intent on leaving Eggsy alone once and for all.

All of that probably explained Harry’s shock when, after he’d taken a mere six steps away from the pub, he was suddenly grabbed and wrenched around by none other than Eggsy himself, and before he could ask the bartender what was wrong, a pair of soft lips he’d only ever fantasized about were on his.

Harry froze, but only for an instant. He immediately melted into the kiss, even going so far as to push Eggsy up against the wall of the pub; and it was a gesture the young man quite liked, if his breathy groan was any indication. Harry’s hands grabbed at whatever part of Eggsy was available, which at that moment happened to be his arse- again, the bartender didn’t protest or try to push Harry away. Actually, his arms came up around Harry’s shoulder and pulled him closer, to the tailor’s immense relief.

Soon (too soon, Harry thought), they broke apart, panting heavily. Eggsy’s skin was pink, his mouth red and glistening, and yet he still had the gall to grin up at Harry like some kind of tart.

“Thank fuck,” he murmured, breathless. “I was startin’ to think you wasn’t interested.”

“I…” Harry blinked, attempting in vain to regain his composure. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Please, Haz,” Eggsy rolled his eyes. “A gorgeous, funny man in a three-piece suit who comes in everyday just to talk to me?”

Harry flushed even deeper than he already had. So Eggsy had figured him out, then. And he’d been trying to be subtle.

“How could I not be interested?” Eggsy continued, leaning in to nip at Harry’s lips. Were he a lesser man, Harry’s knees would have buckled. “I wonder if I’m actually a terrible person, though, for bein’ happy that you just got divorced.”

“I’m quite glad I’m in that position, myself,” Harry replied. He brushed his lips across the young man’s impressive jawline, smiling against his skin when he heard Eggsy’s contented sigh. “But are you quite certain about this? I’m old enough to-”

“If you say ‘be your father’, I’m gonna knee you right in the dick, Harry.”

Harry stifled a laugh. “So it’s not a turn off, then.”

“More the opposite.” Eggsy’s voice dropped to a sensual murmur. “I been thinkin’ of callin’ you ‘Daddy’. That alright?”

Harry groaned, the blood rushing to his lower half. He pushed insistently at Eggsy, attempting to reclaim his lips, but the young man pulled his head back with a laugh.

“Daddy it is,” he declared.

“Eggsy,” Harry said, warningly.

He was answered with a finger on his lips. He looked at Eggsy in confusion.

“Roommates are out of the flat for the weekend,” said the bartender, face serious.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and moved his mouth to reply once Eggsy lowered his finger. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ my shift ends at two tonight, if you’re willin’ to wait.”

Harry’s grip on the young man tightened. It was ten o’clock, last time he checked. He didn’t want to wait, but it was evident he would have to. With that in mind, he indulged in one last, utterly sinful kiss, and released the bartender.

Eggsy winked at him, with a smile that promised so much more if Harry was patient, and he disappeared back within The Black Prince. Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself, and followed after, preparing for what was to be the longest four hours of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there
> 
> may be a part two to this
> 
> eventually


	7. 15. meeting in the E.R./A&E au (Hartwin)

It wasn’t often that Harry had to go to the hospital. At least, not a normal one, since Kingsman had their own medical facilities built to accommodate the agents. But in this particular case, Harry was about to bleed out from a knife wound, and HQ was too far away, so he didn’t protest when the group of civilians that had found him in the alley, bruised and bleeding, called emergency services and had an ambulance take him to the closest emergency room.

He fell unconscious at some point before he’d even arrived, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a hospital room, his stomach aching and somewhat itchy from stiches, and he wasn’t alone.

A young man dressed in nurse’s scrubs was beside his bed, holding up a clipboard that contained- if Harry had to guess- Harry’s vitals. The young man was gorgeous, despite the unflattering image his light blue scrubs presented, and since Harry was still feeling the effects of whatever they’d used to dull the pain of his surgery, he made a point of saying so.

“You’re beautiful,” he said simply, with the tone one would use if merely commenting on the weather. His sudden declaration made the young man jump and turn to face him, so that Harry could now see his nametag, which read, “Eggsy”.

“Oh! You’re awake. Bruv, don’t scare me like that,” he said, smiling gently. “What were you sayin’?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, a bit louder this time. “Especially your eyes.”

Eggsy blinked a few times, a slight pink tinging his cheeks, before he laughed and patted Harry’s shoulder consolingly.

“That’s just the painkillers talkin’, mate, but thanks anyway.”

“I mean it,” he protested. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.”

Eggsy gave him a wry smile. “Tell you what, Mr…” He glanced down at the clipboard, “Hart. If you still feel that way when the painkillers wear off, then we can talk.”

“Over dinner, hopefully.”

Eggsy barked out a laugh. “Christ, mate, you don’t waste any time.”

And while, yes, Harry was, for lack of a better word, doped out, he could still see the way Eggsy’s eyes trailed over his bed-ridden form, subtly appraising him, and felt a surge of vanity wash over him. He certainly didn’t look his best, dressed in a hospital gown and not his pristine suit.

He was broken out of his reverie by Eggsy, who gave him another shoulder pat and a smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, same time. Alright, Mr. Hart?”

Harry only hummed in acquiescence, distracted as he was by Eggsy’s proximity. Then the young nurse was striding out of the room, leaving Harry to ogle his arse for a few glorious seconds before the door closed behind him.

And, perhaps he was just imagining it, but there seemed to be a purposeful swing to the lad’s hips as he walked out.

* * *

True to his word, Eggsy did come in to Harry’s room, every day at the same time, for the next two weeks that Harry was stuck at the hospital. Unfortunately, he’d made the error of wearing his glasses when he first spoke to Eggsy, so Merlin (and the rest of Kingsman, _damn it)_ heard _everything._ Merlin decided, in turn, to not get Harry out of there as fast as possible, using the excuse that he was giving the agent more time to ask the boy out “properly”.

And by the end of the two weeks, Harry was mostly sober, the pain in his gut now just a dull ache, so painkillers were unnecessary. He’d actually been relatively level-headed for the past three days or so, but he’d feigned sleep whenever Eggsy came into the room, as he was far too mortified to try and speak to him again.

(Merlin had made recordings of Harry’s ‘other’ talks with the las, also helped along by medication. They became… increasingly inappropriate, but oddly, Eggsy didn’t seem to mind. He appeared to find it quite hilarious, actually.)

But then came the day when Eggsy came in _early,_ so Harry couldn’t pretend to be asleep and ignore him. Eggsy saw that he was awake, and gave such a large grin Harry was half-worried his pretty face would split in two.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

Harry coughed into his fist, murmuring a hello. He avoided looking at Eggsy as he walked up to the bed and checked Harry’s vitals.

“You should be good to go by tomorrow,” Eggsy hummed. “Can finally get you outta that bed.”

“Thank goodness,” he muttered. Then, gathering up his courage, he looked up at Eggsy. “Erm… Eggsy?”

“Yeah, Haz?” he said back, using a nickname that had caught on fairly quickly in their acquaintance. If he remembered correctly, Harry had told him to call him whatever he wanted. He cringed at the mere memory of it.

“I, um… I wish to apologize. I do hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable with my… comments. They were very… inappropriate, at times.”

For a split second, Eggsy’s grin faltered, and were Harry not a seasoned secret agent, he would have missed it entirely. “Oh. That. Don’t worry about it, Haz. Happens a lot. People say shit they don’t mean all the time over here.”

Harry blinked, his mouth making the decision before his mind could even bring it up. “But I did mean what I said.”

“I… Wha?” Eggsy gaped at him, sparkling green eyes wide with surprise.

“I meant every word of it, Eggsy.”

Eggsy blinked a couple times, before his grin returned in full force. “ _Every_ word?” he leaned down with a wolfish twinkle in his eyes. “Even what you was sayin’ about spreading me out over your bed?”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Although we might want to wait for my stitches to heal before we try any of that.”

Eggsy pulled back and chuckled. “And until then?”

“Until then… I do know a lovely Italian place that I’d love to take you to.”

“Sounds ace, Harry,” Eggsy beamed. And Harry couldn’t help but smile back, (most of) his mortification already fading from his mind.

It took quite a bit of time for Harry’s wound to heal completely, but rest assured, once it did, he took immense pleasure in taking Eggsy- who was by then his official partner- to bed and showing him just how much he’d meant those words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (and then Harry invited Eggsy to join Kingsman’s medical team and they lived happily ever after the end)


End file.
